Giveaways' Odds Draw Lawmakers

February 22, 1999|By Bonnie Miller Rubin, Tribune Staff Writer.

After 20 years of faithfully entering mail-in sweepstakes, Henry Rohrer was sure his diligence finally would be rewarded.

Last September, the 74-year-old retired miner said he received a phone call from a Publishers Clearing House employee saying he was "definitely a cash winner." A month later, the company notified him of his $5 million prize and included an affidavit, which needed to be signed to claim his windfall.

He mailed that back along with a $38 check for a ceramic angel, one of many products offered in the sweepstakes mailing. The company spokesman said it was not necessary to purchase anything to win, Rohrer related, but that it would be "nice if we could say you like our products when the Prize Patrol comes to the door."

With the paperwork, Rohrer also included a hand-drawn map to his home in rural Canton, Ill.

On the day the Rohrers believed the money would be delivered, Henry and his wife, Shirley, a part-time cafeteria worker, sat in their tidy living room and waited. And waited. Finally, some six hours later, they turned off the porch light and went to bed.

"I felt totally disgusted," he said. "I'm just tired of all the promises. Over the years, we've probably spent hundreds of dollars and have nothing to show for it but a bunch of junk."

While mega-million promotions have been around--and under suspicion--for decades, only recently have lawmakers decided to fight back. The advent of slick, sophisticated marketing techniques and solicitations that mimic official government documents and personalized, negotiable checks have underscored the need for stronger legislation to protect consumers--particularly senior citizens, they say.

"As it stands now, the sweepstakes industry isn't winning any prizes for clarity," said U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.), who co-sponsored a bill recently introduced in Congress to sharpen the teeth of current postal statutes.

But beyond the alleged deceptive language, lawmakers also are concerned about implicit suggestions that the entrants needs to make purchases to increase the odds of winning. The angel, miniature lighthouses ($19.95, plus $4.49 shipping and handling), mops, cassettes and dozens of magazine subscriptions are viewed as a small price to pay for admission to Easy Street.

But it rarely happens. Despite the urgent advisories promising that (Your name here) is just "a few weeks away from being confirmed the lucky winner," you have a better chance of being hit by lightning.

For some older Americans, the practice has become an obsession that jeopardizes savings and squeezes out such basic needs as food and heat.

In a widely publicized case last year, an 81-year-old California man made his second trip to Tampa--home to American Family Publishers--clutching a letter that declared: "You're our newest $11 million winner." What he missed was the fine print that said he could collect only if he had a winning number--the same sort of disclaimer that had misled the Rohrers.

"It just breaks your heart," said Brenda Geoghagan, spokeswoman at Tampa International Airport, who estimated that about 20 such elderly travelers come to claim their fortunes each year.

In all cases, airlines have picked up the tab for the fare home, "but it's still very upsetting to us," she said. "Would you want your grandparents treated this way?"

You don't have to travel cross-country to be disappointed. Joffre Leggett, 80, who lives not far from the Tampa airport, has spent about $6,000 over the last two years on magazine subscriptions--including In Style and Esquire--despite not having enough money for heat or to get his car out of the shop.

"I thought it would increase my chances of winning," said the former chauffeur, who lives alone and is on military disability for a condition he said is related to epilepsy. "I even got a letter that said the Prize Patrol would be here at 10 p.m. . . . But around midnight, I just gave up."

After the situation became public, Publishers Clearing House agreed last week to reimburse Leggett, pending return of the purchases.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said of the refund."

The company--which sells household products and collectibles, as well as magazines--defends its practices..

"We believe the mailings are very clear," said Christopher Irving, director of consumer affairs for the Port Washington, N.Y.-based firm. "Of course, like any direct-mail company, we try to make our mailings look as attractive as possible. This is an opportunity . . . and most consumers certainly understand that no purchase is necessary. Problems like these are minuscule compared to the millions of people who respond each year."

(Leggett is off the mailing list and a block has been put on his name to prevent him from making future purchases.)